


You Deserve A Raise, Baby, Because You're Making Me Shine

by AggressiveStress



Series: Larry Stylinson One-Shots [7]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 19 Page One Shot, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Good Friend Zayn, Good Sister Gemma, Kissing, Kitchen Boy Louis, M/M, No Smut, Prince Harry Styles, larry stylinson - Freeform, little bit of language, servant louis, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AggressiveStress/pseuds/AggressiveStress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a miserable prince that has to marry soon, but then comes along the kitchen boy that decides to insult him in a way of saying hello. Louis is really endearing, and Harry's infatuated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Deserve A Raise, Baby, Because You're Making Me Shine

**Author's Note:**

> There might end up being a sequel but this is 19 pages long and I figured I better stop now.

“You look perfect, Hazza.”

Harry frowned at his reflection, moving his hand up from his lap to adjust the golden crown resting on his head of curls. Sure, the gold was probably worth more than the village but he honestly hated it, hated the way it made him look as if he was better than everyone else when he isn’t. He just got lucky with the universe that decided he should be the prince of a kingdom that produced cheeses and coal and the occasional gold from the mines. “Gemma, I don’t want to be twenty anymore,” he sighed.

“No one wants to get old, baby brother but-”

“No, Gemma, I don’t want to get _married_ ,” Harry quickly interrupted.

Gemma froze from where she was carefully adjusting Harry’s curls so they fell just so. “Oh,” she muttered, dropping her hands from his hair and moving around his chair to sit next to him, ignoring his feeble protests. “You knew it would be coming soon, baby brother,” she rested her head on his shoulder, his bony little shoulder that hadn’t yet grown with the rest of him.

“I know. But I didn’t expect it to come so fast. I thought I could at least _live_ first,” Harry stood up, his stomach rolling like an angry sea. “I don’t want to be king, Gemma. Anyone in our villages would kill for my position, but the thing is that I would happily give this up because I’m tired of living up to Mum and Father’s standards and I don’t want to get married yet and I want to go off and see Europe- screw the Europeans that try to stop me. There’s so much to do still!” Harry collapsed on his bed, balancing his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his palms.

Slowly, Gemma made her way over to her little brother, placing a hopefully comforting hand on his shoulder. “Harry, you’re speaking nonsense!’

“How so, Gemma? I could do it! I could make it into Europe and just never come out.”

“Father would never-”

Harry snorted, rubbing his hand down his face despite his elder sisters’ protests because he’s absolutely _ruining_ the powder she put on his cheeks to give him a bit more color. Staying inside for his studies really took away the tan that had taken forever to get in the first place; Harry was just naturally a pale person. “Father this and Father that and I’m sick of living by Father’s rules, Gemma!”

“You’re quite the sourpuss tonight, aren’t you?”

“Gemma I'm being serious!”

“So am I, Harry! You’re being ridiculous and spewing nonsense that will only get you into trouble later.”

“You just don’t understand,” Harry hides his face in his hands, remembering the countless nights he had stayed awake just _dreading_ this day. He would lay on his back, hands folded on his stomach, eyes on his ceiling, and he would just think about how this day would end his young life and instead start his beginning as a king.

“Is... is this because of that Nick fellow?”

Instantly, Harry’s shoulders tensed and he refused to look at his sister. Nick Grimshaw was a very sensitive topic that hadn’t been brought up since what his father called “the incident”. That was it. No one outside of the castle really knew what happened, but they did know it was bad enough to get Nick banished from their kingdom. Harry hadn’t seen the big deal until he watched Nick leave the castle, a single bag over his shoulder, and his eyes staring at his feet. Apparently, a boy trying to kiss another boy was a huge _no_ around the kingdom; keyword _trying_. Harry’s father had seen Nick leaning much too close to Harry and Harry leaning too close back and he had run out, flailing his arms and demanding guards come to take Nick away. But that was five years ago and Harry hadn’t thought of it since, so no this was _not_ because of that Nick fellow.

Harry voiced his thoughts and Gemma breathed out in what could’ve possibly been relief. She crouched as best she could in her gorgeous royal red gown, trying to get Harry to look up at her. “I know you’re still very young, and you do still have some things to learn... But, Hazza, Father is very ill and you’re the next heir, being his son.”

“Can’t you be queen and let me off the hook?” Harry spoke into his hands.

“Believe me, I’ve spoken to Father and I’ve tried everything but... he’s not keen on letting me take the throne alone... Look, Harry, you’re in a very good position being a prince and soon you’re going to be one of the richest people in the world. Try to at least act happy until after the party and I swear we’ll talk, yeah?” Gemma smiled when Harry finally lifted his head and followed her back to his dresser where she could finish his hair to the way she wanted it.

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

The ball was in full swing by the time Harry found a corner, drink in hand, and leaned against the wall to watch everyone else. He barely made it through the crowd, being attacked on all sides of girls in dresses that were either much too bright or much too tight to be legal as they asked him to dance. Gemma made him promise to act happy, but she didn’t say he couldn’t find a nice corner to just wait the dance out. He knew his Mum and Father would be too busy mingling to notice his absence and Gemma would be busy with Luke, a lord from the netherlands of their kingdom. So Harry stood, sipping on his drink that was honestly mostly rum, and he watched people in bright outfits fly around the dancefloor with a stiff grace that was uncomfortable just to watch.

It was nice to be dressed in dark colors that would help him blend into the many shadows of the room. Harry wasn’t surprised to find that all of the decorations were the kingdom’s home colors- royal blood red and crown golden. There was a cake on the table of snacks, sitting in the middle of all the wine glasses that were most likely filled with some expensive wine that cost more than the beasts in their stables. Most of the drinks Harry knew he shouldn’t touch. Getting knackered at a party such as this one wouldn’t just blow over like every other rumor.

“Prince Harold!” the upteenth girl of the evening in a bright rose pink dress delicately approached Harry; Harry hated to be rude but he had to hold his breath when her rum-heavy breath blew in his face. He didn’t know how she was still able to walk with however much rum she’s had this evening.

“Good evening, Taylor,” Harry nodded politely, gripping his glass tighter.

Taylor giggled drunkenly, gripping Harry’s bicep- but it was mostly to steady herself. “Do you want to dance, your highness?” she tried to curtsy with one hand, but stumbled a bit.

“I don’t think you’re stable enough, Taylor... Maybe when you’re sober?”

“Silly!” Taylor hit Harry’s chest, nails scratching his chest underneath the dark red shirt he wore. He took a step back, his hand moving to her elbow to steady her so her other hand would let his bicep go. “I’m completely and utterly stable, Your Highness!”

“You look like you’ll empty your stomach on my shoes any second.”

“But I _won’t_ ,” she whined, tugging on a button from his shirt.

He sighed and gently took her wrist, removing her hand from his clothes before she managed to strip him. “Taylor, why don’t we go find someone to take you home?”

“ _You_ can take me home,” Taylor purred- or she tried to at least. Really, all it did was expel another cloud of rum breath into Harry’s face. He sighed and searched the ballroom, scanning heads until he found a certain ginger that was usually caught up in Taylor’s relationships and would know how to take care of the girl.

“Come on, I found Ed.”

Taylor claps excitedly, “Eddy!” she squealed and practically skipped next to Harry through the crowd.

Harry was oddly used to this behavior from a young woman; he had grown up with Gemma, after all. Gemma had gone all out when she turned the legal age to drink and Harry had ended up with her arm across his shoulders, helping her limp upstairs as she rambled about how cute the princes were at her party. Ed is the closest thing Taylor had to a friend, Harry knew, and he also knew that Ed was the only one that could get her calm enough to function soberly. Ed was by the drink table, stiff and looking around for someone familiar to talk to. Harry could relate. Half of the people that gathered to celebrate his birthday were people he didn’t know. Every once in a while, he would spot an old friend, but he’d been in the castle for so long that he hadn’t talked to them in a while.

“Ed,” Harry said cordingly, making the ginger man turn to find the voice.

He smiled some when he spotted the familiar bed of curls and the emerald green eyes that made up Harry Styles. “Harry,” Ed smiled, glancing warily at Taylor. “Not again,” he helped transfer Taylor from Harry’s shoulders to his own.

“ _Eddy_ ,” Taylor giggled, planting a sloppy kiss on said man’s cheek.

Ed winced and looked to Harry, “You didn’t dance with her did you? She’s quite terrible when she’s knackered like this.”

“Um, no. We, uh, we didn’t dance. She found me and asked, but... yeah.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ed laughed, “she’s been muttering about her dreamy prince ever since we arrived.” They both laughed while Taylor stumbled on her way to grab another drink. Ed batted her hand away before she could, adjusting so she couldn’t get to the drink table. “Don’t worry, mate, I’ll get her home.”

Taking Taylor with him, Ed walked off and Harry was once again left alone in a dark corner of the ballroom. He picked at the snacks on the table, played with the cuffs of his sleeves, tugged on his curls, and watched the dancers until there was finally nothing more to do than sit on the floor. So the prince that was supposed to be a role model for hundreds of boys slid in his silk shirt down the wall, and leaned back against it. His eyes roamed across the room, but nothing had changed. Swirling skirts, laughing couples, clinking wine glasses, a few children giggling over Harry’s cats Dusty and Molly, and everything was just so plain that Harry wanted to bust his head open using the wall.

“You look stupid,” a voice says right next to Harry’s ear.

Harry jumps about five feet in the air, head snapping to the side to stare at whoever had been talking so close to him. “What?” he gaped.

There was an older lad crouching next to him, a thoughtful look upon his face. Harry first noticed the boys’ eyes; they were gorgeous to be quite honest. Swirling pools of dark and light water that flowed into different colors, mingling with the different shades to create something so unique and beautiful that Harry had to blink a few times to make sure the color was real. Then shaggy brown hair fell across the boys’ forehead, dipping into his eyes, but also swept back in odd places with some kind of gel; Harry supposed the boy spent a lot of time running his fingers through his hair. He was dressed in servant clothing, Harry realized, and yet he was actually speaking to the prince like they were of the same class. It was different. Harry didn’t know if that was a good or bad different.

The boy smirks a little; Harry’s eyes briefly flicker to the red, full lips as they shifted form. “Didn’t realize you had a bit of a hearing problem. I said, you look quite stupid over here all alone.”

Harry frowned, “What gives you the right to say that?”

“The fact that you are completely alone and look bored out of your right mind. I came over to make sure you weren’t planning your ultimate death.” The man smiled brilliantly; Harry blinked and quickly looked away although his cheeks heated up and something stirred in his belly. “I’m Louis, a servant,” the man introduced lazily, ignoring the people that briefly glanced over at the servant speaking to the prince.

“Harry...” the younger man trailed off, uncertain to where any of this was going.

Louis snorts, much to Harry’s surprise. He hadn’t said anything funny.... had he?

“You act as if I don’t already know your name, young prince,” Louis got to his feet. “Come on,” Louis gripped Harry’s hand, hauling him to his feet. “You are about to implode because of this party, but I know a way that you can have some real fun.” The smile on his face made Harry’s stomach toss and turn in anticipation.

“Wait,” Harry yanked his hand from the servant’s grasp, “I just met you. I can’t trust you.”

Louis just looked at him. Scanned him from head to toe until he finally rolled his eyes- those lovely bright, happy blue eyes- and started to leave. “Suit yourself, then,” he said simply, already weaving his graceful way through the party guests.

Harry stood, watching him go, conflicted. On the one hand, Harry could sit back on the floor and wait until the whole ball blows over and then on the other hand he could go with the servant. He could find out about whatever the servant claimed would be fun. Gemma would probably murder him later when she realized Harry had ditched his own party, leaving Gemma to make up an excuse for their parents whenever they asked about him. But he didn’t care. He found himself going after the servant, searching over most heads to catch a flash of blue eyes when Louis turned back to make sure he was still following because Louis knew he was coming, knew he would give in to his curiosity. Harry was only slightly worried about his decision.

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

When he was young, Harry was banned from the kitchen. It wasn’t because he was an exactly disastrous child, but because the cooks were worried a young child would find too much interest in sharp, glinting knives. And he did. The one time he managed to slip into the blocked off kitchen unnoticed, Harry immediately saw the knife collection that hung on the wall closest to the baker’s table. He had dragged himself up on the counter and reached for a knife; he ended up cutting his finger almost right off. His cry of pain had cooks whirling around, screaming words of apology although Harry never found the reason for, and running to him so one could grab him and take him to the royal doctor, Liam.

Now, he enters the kitchen where music comes from cooks and maids banging on pots and pans, blowing into a flute, playing a banjo, using a washboard, and one maid singing. All of their servants were gathered in the kitchen, talking, laughing, dancing, and drinking from the royal family’s fine China. When Louis pushed open the kitchen door, everything paused and the servants froze in horror as Harry entered the room. Fear struck every face and they scrambled to hide the fine China behind their backs; Harry frowned. His father would have a fit, sure, but he wasn’t going to be angry because their servants deserved some fun after working for so long.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness,” a maid rushed, casting her eyes to the floorboards. Louis watched Harry, anticipating his next move as the servants all started to apologize for their misdoings, putting their eyes to the floor in a move of respect.

Harry gently smiled, “Don’t be sorry. Carry on,” he insists.

“What?” one cook asked, startled.

Harry didn’t like how they all seemed to be waiting for him to turn and run to tell his father about their servants celebrating; he didn’t like it at all. So he reached for the closest fine China glass of cider- Harry supposed they all put some money in to buy a couple of bottles- and he raised the glass in the air. “I hereby call a celebration is in order for my very own twentieth birthday,” he proclaims as dramatically as possible.

Louis’ the first to laugh and raise his own glass, “Here, here,” he taps their glasses together playfully, a new sparkle to his eye.

“Here, here,” the servants finally echoed, raising their glasses and then bringing them back down to take a drink. The music started up again and Harry felt his shoulders relax as the tension drained from the room and Louis turned to him with a smile.

“So, Your Highness, would you like to dance?” Louis raised an eyebrow, cheeky smile renewed.

“Please,” Harry smiled back, blushing, “call me Harry. But, yes, I would love to dance.”

So they did. Louis dragged Harry in the middle of the maids and the butlers and the cooks and let him dance as he pleased even though he’s obviously not the best dancer. Most of the maids strayed away, too afraid to approach Harry while others were too touchy and Louis had to forcefully remove them from Harry’s body; they would whine and pout but they eventually backed off when Louis gave them a look that he seemed to reserve for special occasions. The songs picked up, launching into a fun beat and Louis grinned, hooking his arm through Harry’s and taking them around and around in a circle in the middle of the servants. Harry threw his head back and laughed, singing along because this was a song he’d grown up loving and- although it isn’t better than the original- it was great to hear again.

Louis spun him around in another circle, letting his hand go and Harry was suddenly dancing with a servant he knew well. The young lad worked in the stables and always helped Harry ready his beast- Harry had seen him so many times he knew his name was Niall. Niall smiled at him toothily, taking his hand and Harry took the hand of the servant on his other side. They started dancing in a circle where Louis was in the middle, twirling a young maid, whom laughed cheerily. Harry tried not to focus on that part of the dance because Louis was suddenly grabbing his hand, pulling him into the middle of the circle while the maid took Harry’s former place.

Once the song ended, Louis pulled Harry from the dance area to a counter to get a glass of water; Harry enjoyed the red flush of Louis’ cheeks. “You’re very beautiful,” Harry blurted suddenly, but then his face immediately heated up to an ugly red color and he looked down to his shoes. Louis chuckled next to him and Harry blushed harder when Louis placed a hand on his bicep as if to calm him.

“Thank you, dear Harold,” Louis teases, bumping Harry’s hip with his own although he’s much shorter than the prince.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to- I just-"

“Don’t hurt yourself, lad. I understand.”

Harry nods, still blushing, “Okay. Good. Great,” he tries to laugh, but it sounds too choked to be genuine. “Thank you... for bringing me here, I mean,” Harry runs a hand through his damp hair, wincing at the sweat that he feels. Louis didn’t seem to notice or mind when they were dancing with their hands interlocked, so Harry doesn’t feel too nervous about it.

Louis shrugs, moving around the water in his cup, “No trouble. The prince needs to loosen up once in a while.”

“Hey, I loosen up plenty!"

Louis snorts comically, “Sure you do, mate.”

“I do!”

“Calm down, Sweetcheeks. It’s okay if you’re pretty much a stick in the mud.” Harry opens his mouth to protest but Louis quickly cuts him off by continuing, “What matters is that you’re here to let loose. So, have some fun. The night has only begun! And, by the way, what beauty I have does not compare to your own my dear prince.” Louis easily joins the dance again. Harry rushes to follow him.

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

The music eventually dies down and couples start surging on the dance floor, taking their partner into their arms and swaying to the soft notes of the harp. Sure, the maids are in their work dresses and the men are in their dirtied clothes from the day, but they didn’t need nice, fancy clothes to have a party as long as they had fun. It was a nice change. Harry goes back to awkwardly standing against the wall, watching a maid approach Louis on the other side of the room to most likely ask him to dance. Louis frowns and denies her offer, his eyes scanning the room until he found Harry; he smiled and started making his way towards the prince. Harry felt his heart rate speed up, his palms grew damp, and his cheeks heated with another blush.

Louis stopped in front of him, “I brought you here so you wouldn’t be alone in a corner, but it seems to me that you always end up back here anyway.”

Harry shrugged, “Guess it’s a force of habit.”

“Then let’s break that habit, shall we?”

It doesn’t take more than a millisecond for Harry to take the hand Louis is offering, letting the servant pull him back onto the dancefloor for what had to be the millionth time that night. Niall, swaying with a red-haired maid, gave Harry a thumbs-up, the grin on his mouth not innocent in the least. Louis spread his fingers, intertwining their hands and his other arm snaked around Harry’s waist, pulling them together. He rested his head there, against Harry’s chest; Harry was so much taller than Louis, but Louis kind of liked it (not that he’d ever admit it out loud, of course). Harry buried his face in Louis’ slightly sweat-damp hair, shutting his eyes and determined to savor the night for this could be the last night like it for a long while.

Once several slow songs are over, the more upbeat music starts going again, but Louis doesn’t dance. He reluctantly takes Harry to the sidelines. “Your father must be wondering where you are by now,” Louis bites his lip, looking away briefly as if stealing himself.

“No, I don’t think he is.”

“Harry, I mean I think it’s time that you go back to the world of the royal before you’re caught in here with the rest of us.”

The prince frowned, “But, Lou-”

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to the ballroom.”

Harry wants to stay in the kitchen, he wants to dance with Louis and the other servants again, he wants to make actual friends, but he also knows that Louis is right. Of course Louis is right. As a prince, Harry is expected to stay at the royal party to mingle and socialize with his guests. At this point, the party was probably dying down anyway. Maybe an hour or so left to the night before the guests started leaving to get back to their homes or their own kingdoms by morning. Louis holds Harry’s hand, though, leads him through the hallways that Harry grew up in until they’re back at the ballroom doors where two guards stand on alert.

Louis pulls his hand away from Harry, smiling as best as he could manage, “I hope you enjoyed your night, Your Highness.”

There was that part of Harry that told him that he should turn around and march back to the kitchen with Louis at his side. But there was that other part of Harry that let him know that his father would be getting suspicious soon. He knew it was time to say goodbye.

“I did, Louis,” Harry grinned, genuinely happy with the way his birthday had gone. “Thank you for inviting me. This is honestly the best birthday I’ve had in a while, and I had a lot of fun.”

“More like I forcefully dragged you, but you’re welcome. I bid you ado, Your Highness.”

 

*-*-*-*-*

After his birthday, Harry found himself looking for Louis whenever he had free time, which wasn’t very often. His studies were cramming his schedule almost every day, and if it wasn’t his studies then it was some activity his father was forcibly making him take up. Such activities included horseback riding, violin (Harry couldn’t play to save his life), painting (Harry’s more the fingerpainting type), and football (Harry was pretty bad but getting better... he hopes). Zayn, Harry’s best friend and sort-of-advisor, had kept Harry company for a bit.

“So, where were you during the party?” Zayn asked the day after the party.

They were walking through the royal garden on Harry’s lunch hour; Zayn wasn’t usually doing anything so he was free whenever Harry wanted to get together. Ever since Harry was seven, Zayn had lived in the castle with his mother whom is one of their many chefs. After a long fight with his father about how Zayn is Harry’s _friend_ , not a servant, Harry made sure Zayn’s title as advisor was permanent. And, after all these years of Zayn dealing with Harry, they’re still best friends.

Which is why Harry can’t lie to Zayn even if he wanted to. So he told him about Louis, the party in the kitchen, and about how he and Louis danced together (he didn’t include the slow dance).

Once Harry was done explaining, Zayn hummed thoughtfully, “Well it seems like you had a good time, yeah?”

“It was the best birthday I’ve had in a long time, Zayn.”

“Do you fancy this Louis character?”

Harry flushes and looks down at his feet. “Wh-what? No! No, that’s preposterous!”

“Careful, don’t damage yourself with big words,” Zayn laughed.

Harry hit his friend on the arm, glaring at him although it was only half-hearted. “Shuddup.”

“Have you seen him again since the party?”

“No,” Harry scratched behind his ear, taking a left into the walkway framed by bright red roses with Zayn following at his side. “He’s been working, Zayn, and I barely have any time to myself anyway. So even if he wasn’t working, I would be.”

Zayn shook his head, “You gotta make time if you want to get close to this guy, Harry. Do what you need to.”

It was two weeks after Harry’s birthday when he finally caught sight of Louis. The elder man was passing Harry’s chambers, a basket of fresh sheets tucked under his arm. His hair was loose this time, thrown every which way; Harry really wanted to run his fingers through the strands. Louis didn’t glance at Harry’s chambers as it isn’t polite to sneak a peek into any of the royals’ rooms, but Harry was too excited to wait until he got into the hallway to yell at him.

“Lou!” Harry scrambled off his bed, effectively ruining the maids’ crisp hospital corners.

Louis startled, dropping the basket in his attempt to whirl around to see who called him. When he saw Harry, he smiled but rolled his eyes playfully. “Your Highness, you should not scream at me in the hallways. There are people in meetings downstairs.”

“Sorry,” Harry was grinning too much to be serious, “Can you come chat for a bit?"

“I would, My Prince, but I have a duty to do,” he nods to the sheets strewn across the floor.

“Oh,” Harry frowns, his mood once again dropping. He couldn’t help it. He felt more free with Louis than he had felt in general in the past multiple years; he liked the feeling too much to let it slip from his fingers. “Right. Of course.”

Louis started gathering the sheets back into the basket. “Are you feeling well today?”

There was a polite tone Louis forced into his voice and Harry really didn’t like it when Louis of all people was that proper with him. “Now I am, yes,” and Louis grinned but didn’t reply. He folded each sheet individually, carefully placing them into the basket according to size. “Sorry for making you drop your basket.”

“No problem,” Louis shrugged, glancing towards the door across from Harry’s where Gemma currently slept; he couldn’t risk anyone finding about him flirting with the prince. Once he was finished with the sheets, he stood and looked at Harry seriously for the first time since the curly prince called his name; Louis smiled mischievously at Harry’s ruffled hair and wrinkled shirt. And, under his breath, he told Harry, “Meet me in the greenhouse in an hour. We can talk during my break.”

Harry found himself smiling again, dimples and all, “Perfect..”

*-*-*-*-*

The greenhouse is the brightest place in the castle, including the garden. In the greenhouse, every area is taken up with some kind of bright, cheerful plant except for one area in the very back of the greenhouse where no one else dared to go. The area isn’t dangerous, of course, but it was forbidden to anyone that isn’t a royal for in that area were some of the most endangered plants that still remained in the world. Harry discovered it when he was small and too curious for his own good; he used to stay there for hours upon hours until a maid finally yelled through the trees for him. He reluctantly came out, but only because he knew the maid would get his father if he didn’t come out of the area by himself.

Harry shut the greenhouse door behind him as he entered; Louis was already waiting in the high-ceilinged room, laying in a patch of sunlight coming through the glass ceilings. The sunlight cast shadows across his cheeks from his long eyelashes, eyes closed, his arms folded behind his head (Harry’s convinced he’s in love with Louis’ biceps), the sun soaked into his skin and Harry wasn’t surprised- Louis is sunshine, after all. He had taken Harry into a cheerful place when he was lonely and down, and he set aside their titles for the night so they could be equal. Harry didn’t know if any other maid or servant in the castle would dare do the same.

“Hey, Curly. You going to keep staring at me or are you going to come sit down?” Louis spoke, eyes still shut against the sunlight. Harry’s cheeks stained bright pink.

“You don’t mind, do you? The staring, I mean.”

Louis’ eyes flashed open, Harry drowning in the pure blue that focused on him. “No,” Louis smiled, “not at all. Care to sit?”

Although the greenhouse isn’t the most common place for others to come, the place isn’t very concealed. All the walls are glass- thick, so bullets can’t pierce it- and all the plants are close together but not close enough to where someone could hide without being seen. Harry knew that if Louis was caught with him and it got back to the king, Louis would be in a lot of shit. That wasn’t something Harry was going to let happen. He’s still shocked that Louis is doing it all for him in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” Louis stood, dusting off the back of his pants. Harry’s eyes lingered too low for too long, but either Louis didn’t notice or he chose not to comment on it. “Are you changing your mind? You can leave if you want, I won’t hold it against you.”

“No!” the younger male lurched forward, gripping Louis’ bicep.

Louis raised an eyebrow, smirking a little, but his pupils are blown a little wide because _damn_ that’s a big hand. “You seem panicked.”

“I, um, well I just- Let’s just- Follow me.”

It was Harry’s turn to tug Louis along through a path he knew well. The path is hidden by overgrown rose bushes with thorns that no one dared to near; Harry simply picked up the stick he kept hidden under a nearby bush and pushed aside one of the rose bushes. He stepped in first, careful to make sure the thorns don’t prick Louis as he steps through, too. Once the bushes are cleared, a line of weeping willows make a path through the woods where four different trails break off, but only one leads to the forbidden area.

Louis immediately knows where they’re going and falters, “Harry-”

“No one comes back here, Lou, I promise.”

Louis doesn’t say anything more to protest because Harry has grabbed his hand and is gently pulling him along through the trail. The servant feels his heart pick up speed in excitement as he’s led closer and closer to a place he isn’t allowed to ever go near; Harry doesn’t let go of him until they’re in the clearing. There’s a valley of bright white and pink and blue flowers, trees loom overhead on the edges but there are a few trees situated in the middle of the clearing, apples wait in one tree nearly ready to pick and eat, and Louis doesn’t believe a place so beautiful could actually exist. Harry steps into the clearing, holding the bushes away for Louis to duck through and join him; Louis crosses and that’s it. There isn’t any going back.

“I would hide here,” Harry says, walking through the vibrant flowers to the apple tree, “as a child, I mean. Everyday, when I was tired of only doing my studies and what my father requires me to do, I would run away from my nanny and hide up here. She could never come get me, of course, so I was safe for a few hours.”

He sits down in the shade of the apple tree, back resting against the thick bark. “I didn’t have that,” Louis replies. “When I was young and wanted to get away, I had to hide in the kitchen behind my mother’s skirts. Of course that didn’t work out very well and the guards usually caught me minutes later; I always went there. Never anywhere else.” Louis looks thoughtful as he sits in front of Harry, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin there to look at the prince.

“Why not go somewhere else then?”

“Because I knew my mother would do everything she could to keep the guards from finding me. She would talk them down, tell them it’s wrong to interrupt the work of the kitchen just to find a child. The other women in the kitchen would help, too, but it didn’t work for long.”

“Why were the guards chasing you?”

Louis laughs a little, blue eyes glinting mischievously, “I got into trouble nearly every day. My mate Niall and I would get caught taking a spare loaf of bread, pulling up flowers in the garden, taking Princess Gemma’s paint and smearing it on every door so it looks like blood, or putting it on our bodies so it looks like we’re hurt. Niall and I would do everything we could to get in trouble. We didn’t care about the consequences. Children of our age only got one hit to the back with the whip for a crime.”

“But why would you do all that? Why would you do all that if you knew the punishment?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions,” Louis deflects, smirking.

“I’m a very curious person.”

“Well you did follow a random stranger out of your own birthday party...”

“You called me stupid.”

“No, I said you _looked_ stupid. There’s a difference.”

Harry laughs, dimples flashing; Louis watches them disappear. “You’re very mean,” Harry playfully pouts, twisting his fingers into the flowers at his hip, tugging on them.

Eyes on Harry’s hand, Louis answers, “Me? To you? No! Never.”

“A liar and mean. What’s next?”

“Well you did call me beautiful.”

Harry’s cheeks light up so quickly, Louis thinks of a fire blazing to life. “Low blow.”

Louis shrugs, “You’re the one that said it. And if we’re being completely honest here, you’re more beautiful than I supposedly am.” He smiles sweetly at a flabbergasted Harry before he stands and picks a bright green apple from the tree, running his thumb across the smooth surface. “This is you,” Louis explains as he goes back to his seat, “pure, bright, new, and vibrant. But when you cut it open, what do you get?”

“A sour taste?”

“No,” Louis laughs, shaking his head. “When you cut it open, it’s thick inside. Crunchy. And it’s deep until you get to the core where the seeds are. This is you Harry. You’re perfect on the outside, but on the inside you’re deep with a past and thoughts and feelings until you get to the very seeds that made you. Your beginning,” Louis turns the apple over and over in his hands. “It’s hard being a prince, I think. I mean, you’re supposed to do certain things, be a certain person, but the maids and butlers and kitchen staff like me don’t have to do that. Sure, we have a pretty hard life because we struggle to pay off fines and it takes an entire week’s pay to buy a good, fulfilling dinner, but at least we can be who we want to be. I can do nearly anything I want without worrying about the kingdom looking at me and seeing me as a terrible influence. You’re basically a prisoner in here. You’re imprisoned inside yourself, yeah?”

Harry is staring at Louis, eyes blown wide. Of course he had known about everything Louis was talking about, but he didn’t think anyone could have the same thoughts as him. He’s still staring when Louis looks up from the apple, eyebrows furrowed because Harry hadn’t answered him. The shorter man looks back at Harry, crystal blue eyes a little darker than usual with worry.

“What?” Louis asked, sort of self-conscious because Harry’s still staring at him.

And Harry really kind of wants to kiss Louis now, but he can’t. So he doesn’t.

“Nothing,” the curly-haired boy shakes his head, “it’s just really nice for someone to see everything from my point of view before they judge me.”

“I don’t judge you, Harry,” Louis promises, catching Harry’s gaze.

“You’d be the first.”

“That’s just how the world works, sweetcheeks,” Louis lays back in the grass, shutting his eyes against the bright sunlight that bathes him in a warm glow. Harry doesn’t hesitate when he lays next to Louis, shutting his eyes as well and letting the sun evaporate any tension in his body. He pretends his hand bumping into Louis’ is an accident, but it’s obviously not an accident when Louis’ hand curls around his, slotting their fingers together.

*-*-*-*-*

Louis is working in the stable three days later when Harry finally runs into him. The prince had been roaming the castle in all his free time, hoping to catch Louis like he had that day in the hallway, but it didn’t work. Harry went to the kitchen once to catch Louis’ mother in the off chance that she would tell him where Louis was hiding out, but the cook hadn’t been there either. He was starting to get lonely when his father knocked on his door and told him it was time for his riding lesson; Harry had huffed and puffed the entire time he took to get dressed in his riding pants and loose white shirt. White probably wasn’t the best idea, but Harry was already changed, so he leaves his room and takes his sweet, precious time walking to the stables.

He can hear the usual chatter of Niall, talking to the horses and most likely saddling Harry’s horse for him. Harry had insisted on many occasions that he wanted to saddle his own horse, but the king wouldn’t allow it once he caught Harry in the act. It took all of Harry’s begging ability for his father to believe him that Niall wasn’t making the young prince saddle his own horse, Harry actually wanted to do it. Anne had stood to the side during the argument, shaking her head sadly at her husband when he banished Harry to his chambers for the night; Harry had run out of the room on the brink of tears. Harry is sure that if he had known Louis back then, he would’ve been running straight to Louis’ arms.

“Your highness,” Niall bows dramatically when Harry enters the stables, head ducked down and thumbs hooked in the top of his trousers. He hadn’t slept very well for the past few nights, thinking of a small hand curled in his and shaggy hair and beautiful eyes. The servant was haunting his mind nearly 24/7.

“Shuddup, Niall,” he mumbled tiredly, sluggishly moving towards the stool that Niall was using to stand on while he saddles Harry’s horse.

“Alrighty then, grouchy,” Niall reaches down to ruffle Harry’s curls.

The prince bats his friends’ hand away, “Not grouchy. More like exhausted.”

“What’d they have you do today?”

“.... Archery.”

Niall nearly falls off the stool with laughter, “Holy shit that must’ve been entertaining. How’d it go?”

“Humiliating,” Harry refused to give out the details of his little lesson (one of the castle walls nearly went up in flames when Harry’s arrow hit a lit lantern and it fell to the ground, catching the grass on fire). “Moving on.Who’s the teacher today?”

“That would be me, Curly,” a smug voice speaks from across the barn.

Harry whips his head up quick enough to see Louis emerge from the saddle room, arms loaded down with an old leather saddle. “Louis!” Harry immediately brightens, walking quickly to Louis where he throws his arms around the shorter lad. Niall makes kissing noises in the background, but Louis flips him off even though that would do nothing to stop Niall’s immaturity.

“Well hello to you, too,” Louis laughs, unable to hug back thanks to the saddle.

“Sorry,” Harry backs away, smiling shyly, “It’s just... been a while.”

Louis stiffens some, “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Harry deflates just a little but Louis doesn’t seem to notice. The prince says, “Well you’re the only fresh entertainment I have around here other than Nill who, face it, gets boring after a while.” There’s a yelled ‘hey!’ and Harry laughs, sticking his tongue out at Niall.

“True,” Louis nodded. “My sister was sick at home, so I was staying home for a few days to take care of her and my other siblings. It was such a mess that I’m actually glad to be back,” he shudders like the thought horrifies him. “It’s a horrid thought.”

“Here, here!” Niall agrees.

“Is your sister well now?” Harry asks, concerned.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m back,” Louis moves past Harry to the usual trainer’s horse, bringing her out to saddle her.

“And your mum?”

“She’s back in the kitchen slaving over the boiling water. She knew the kitchen would fall apart without her so she came back early yesterday. You royals couldn’t live without her steamed carrots,” Louis laughs.

Niall hops off the stool, clapping Harry on the shoulder, “The beast is ready to go, mate. And remember to be careful with your boots. You spooked her last time-”

“I’ll be more careful,” Harry says quickly before Niall decides to spew the horrifying story with Louis in the room. “Promise.”

“Alright, well I’m going to...” Niall looks around the barn, lost on what he’s supposed to be doing, “go see where Liam is. He’ll probably know what I should be doing right now. See you two later!” he leaves the barn quickly, heading back to the castle.

“Hopeless,” Louis rolls his eyes, tightening the last strap on his horse’s saddle. “Alright, Curly, you ready to go?”

Harry nods furiously, “Yup. Yes. Let’s go.”

They both mount their horses and Louis heads out of the barn first, tapping the side of his horse to get him into a fast walk. Harry is soon at his side, posture too perfect and tense to be comfortable. Louis notices, “Loosen up, Curly. It’s me. Not some arsehole that’s going to make you sit straight until your spine is stuck that way.”

Harry drops into a slump, breathing out in relief. “So where’re we going Lou?”

“The lake.”

“How come?”

Louis smirks, “Because no one else goes to the lake at this time and I thought maybe we could be alone for a while. Unless, you would rather go through the woods and then come back.”

Harry shook his head, “No, no, no. The, uh, the lake would be great.”

*-*-*-*-*

 

Louis finished tying up his horse before he went over to Harry and dropped onto the ground next to the prince, who was attempting to skip rocks in the lake. He never got a jump, and instead they all sunk to the bottom of the lake, lost. Biting his lip, Louis willed himself not to grab Harry’s hand and help. But then Harry stood up, a look of determination on his face, and started furiously throwing the rocks at the lake. Louis leant back against the apple tree and let the prince try all he wanted; Louis was just enjoying being away from the castle even if it was only for a short time.

“Dammit!” Harry finally threw his hands up, annoyed and all hope lost. He sits next to Louis, grumbling about how rocks are stupid anyway and they shouldn’t be able to jump in the first place. Louis tries not to laugh, he _really_ does but it’s too late and Harry whips his head around, staring at Louis incredulously. “Are you _laughing_ at this?”

“Just a little, lad,” Louis snickers, biting on his bottom lip like that would help.

Harry’s eyes immediately follow Louis’ lip as it gets trapped between the shorter mans’ teeth. “It’s not funny,” he looks down at the ground, starting to pull grass up from the ground.

Curse Louis’ weakness to boys with doe eyes.

“Come on,” Louis picks up a few rocks, getting to his feet and dusting off the back of his trousers.

Harry looks up at him in confusion, “What?”

“Come on,” Louis repeats, “I’m going to teach you.”

The prince scrambles to his feet, walking to the edge of the water with Louis. The shorter man takes one rock in between his fingers, turns his attention to the water, and focuses on what makes him happy before his wrist flicks and the rock is jumping across the water _one, two, three, four_ times. Then the rock sinks and Louis grins at Harry (the bastard’s pretty smug, too).

“How’d you do that?”

Louis takes Harry’s wrist and presses a rock into the prince’s palm, “Well first you need a pretty nice rock. You can’t pick up a rock that’s so out of shape that it can’t glide across the water.”

Harry thinks Louis could walk on water if he really wanted to. He’s just so... light and... happy. “Then what?” Harry thinks his voice cracked, but he tries to not pay attention to that part.

But Louis pays a little attention to it and the corner of his mouth quirks up; the prince was too young and adorable to be a king like his father. “You think of something that makes you happy. Anything, really. You can’t be angry or else you’ll throw too hard and the rock will sink. So, go to your happy place.”

Harry shuts his eyes long enough to go back to that day in the greenhouse. After Harry and Louis had locked their hands together, he had gotten up the courage to roll on his side and press his ear to Louis’ chest. Louis’ heartbeat had faltered- Harry could hear it- but then it was steady again and Harry eventually fell asleep. Louis didn’t seem to mind until an hour later when Harry’s maths teacher was looking for him and Louis had to shake the young prince awake. Once Harry’s mind is focused on that place (for the millionth time since it happened), he opens his eyes.

“And now?”

Louis runs his fingertips up Harry’s wrist, across the inside of his arm, and then his hand drops away to hold Harry’s hips. Harry breathes out, relaxing into the touch. “Don’t move your body. Just your hand. Flick your wrist and let go.”

Harry lets the rock go flying from his grasp, but he doesn’t watch it as it skips across the lake four times. Instead, he turns around, grabs Louis’ face between his hands, and presses an urgent, messy kiss to the man’s lips. Louis’ eyes widen, but then he’s gripping Harry’s hips tighter and pushing the prince against the tree and he’s angling his head better. Their teeth clash a few times, but they don’t care. Harry’s groaning, dropping his hands to Louis’ waist and squeezing, desperately trying to get closer. Louis presses his tongue to Harry’s lips, prying open the mouth of the prince so he can lick all around and get that distinctive taste of Prince Harry. The young prince doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he tries to get the hang of it by letting Louis take control (Harry has a feeling that even if he fought back, Louis would be in control anyway).

After what could’ve been hours, Louis pulls away, breathless and eyes dark with lust. “Shit,” he murmurs, “Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that?” But he really didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know who got to Harry before he did.

Harry drops his head, “I haven’t-”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Louis says quickly, assuming it was a bad situation.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I haven’t actually... kissed anyone... ever,” his face is becoming the endearing red color that Louis loves.

Louis’ eyes widen even more if that’s possible, “You mean your first kiss was my tongue in your mouth? Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“What? No!” Harry grabs onto Louis’ waist tighter, “That was... that was great.”

Louis grins, “You think?”

“Yeah. Yeah definitely.”

So Louis steals Harry’s second kiss, then his third, then his fourth, and he keeps going until the sun’s going down and they really have to get back to the castle. They’re laying together in the grass, Harry hesitantly pressing kisses to Louis’ neck and jaw when Louis announces that they need to go back. And Harry knows he’s right. Knows he should get up right now, tell Louis that no one can know about this, and he should tell himself that this can never happen again because he’s supposed to be a king soon and kings don’t kiss other boys. But Harry doesn’t do any of that. He hums and moves his body closer to Louis’, presses a kiss against his neck, and then pulls away just enough to speak.

“Do you want to go back?”

“ _Hell_ no,” Louis gasps when Harry’s teeth sink into his neck just a little.

“Good because we aren’t leaving. Not until nightfall when Gemma will start to worry. Niall probably told her where I was and she’s probably covering for me.”

“Probably? Harry that’s not very reassuring...” but then Harry captures Louis’ mouth in a kiss and Louis stops arguing with the prince for once.


End file.
